


False Pretense

by Demonhugger69



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: One Shot, Psychopath Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:17:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonhugger69/pseuds/Demonhugger69
Summary: What if Sherlock wasn't who everyone thought he was? What if all this time he has been pretending to feel, pretending he could actually care about people and things?This one-shot was inspired by the show Dexter. I highly recommend it :)





	False Pretense

John frowns at Sherlock as they sit in the back of a cab. His friend has been acting weird- well weirder than usual- every since this morning. John isn't too concerned, but he is curious as to what is going on inside the sociopath's head.

The duo are currently headed to Bart's to see Lestrade and Molly. A body just came in with odd markings, Lestrade wants the two men to have a look at.

John clears his throat. "Um, you okay? Sherlock?"

Sherlock doesn't bother to look at him as he answers in a monotone voice. "Fine."

John narrows his eyes, slowly nodding. "Alright then," he mutters under his breath.

The cab soon stops outside Bart's hospital and Sherlock is out in a flash, leaving John to pay the cabbie.

John walks into the hospital with a sigh after paying. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the morgue. Sherlock does most of the work with these types of things anyway. He hums and makes a mental note that he will need to pick Rosie up from daycare in an hour.

"Elementary." Sherlock scoffs as glances over the body. "She was a prostitute. One of her clients killed her after a dispute."

Lestrade's mouth gapes. "There is no way! This girl was the daughter of one of my men. She was a sweet girl, she would never-"

"Those are the facts. I am sure a DNA analysis will tell you the same." Sherlock says coldly. "Are we done here?"

Lestrade looks at him strangely. He gulps and points to the corpse's feet. "W-what about the burns on her feet?"

Sherlock is already walking toward the exit. "Burns from a campfire," he calls out over his shoulder before leaving the room.

John almost walks into Sherlock in the hallway. "Done already?" John questions.

Sherlock nods and brushes past him. John quickly grabs for his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asks his friend again. "You don't seem like yourself."

"I'm fine," Sherlock mutters again. He shakes off John's hand and strides down the hall.

"I have to pick Rosie up from daycare. So I won't be at the flat until a little later," John tells him.

Sherlock waves a hand of acknowledgement before passing through a door. He walks out to the streets and decides to walk back to Baker street rather than take a cab. He needs some time to clear his mind.

Its a rather chilly day, but many people are out enjoying the cool weather. Couples holding hands pass Sherlock on the sidewalk. He spots a few elderly men and women sitting on benches, and sees children playing.

He frowns at them all, envious of the emotions they express so easily. It has never been that like that for himself. He has had to train himself to fit into society... to an extent. He knows he would not survive having to act like them everyday... but he still puts on an act in front of others. How he wishes he could just be himself.

Sherlock doesn't realize he has made it home until he hears John entering the flat. He must has blocked everything out for an hour or two at least.

"Sher Sher!" Rosie squeals and reaches for the man. John chuckles and lowers her to the ground so she can toddle to the sociopath.

Sherlock quickly puts on his happy mask and smiles at the young girl. He picks her up from the ground as she reaches him, placing her on his lap. John smiles at the two of them, relieved to see Sherlock acting normal again... or what he believes to be normal.

"How are you my darling?" Sherlock asks Rosie.

"Tired because she skipped her nap," John answers for her. He walks to them and gives his daughter a stern fatherly look. "Time for a nap, Rosie. You will be cranky later if you don't get one."

His daughter pouts but nods silently. John lifts her from Sherlock and walks her toward their room.

"Bye bye," she waves to Sherlock.

He smiles and waves until they are both out of sight. He quickly drops the act, feeling himself become exhausted once more. He closes his eyes and leans his head back.

'Everyday, putting on an act. Why must I go through this false pretense?' He questions himself. 'Oh yes... because Mycroft has told me to do so. "Normal people have emotions, feelings. You must act somewhat close to that, Sherlock. Use it as something to focus on."' He mocks his brother. 'I tried his way, I even resorted to drugs for help. Those worked for some of the time, but now my brother has made me stop them fully. He thinks meeting John has helped me... My acting must have gotten better. Even my brother, (Mr. I occupy a minor position in the british government), has been fooled by me.' He lets out a long sigh. 'I am tired. I'm tired of all of this acting, and I'm bored.'

His eyes snap open.

John had entered the room a few minutes earlier and has been sitting in his chair across from his friend. He glances up from his computer when he sees Sherlock's eyes open. "What is it? You solve a case or something?" He has never seen this look on Sherlock's face before, he is unsure what it means.

Sherlock stands up from his chair and casually walks to the front door. He puts on his scarf and coat without hurry then walks out of the flat.

John watches him go in confusion. Something is definitely not right. He quickly grabs his phone and types a number. "Mycroft, I'm worried... I'm worried about Sherlock."

That's all he needs to say for Mycroft to drop everything he is doing. "I'm on it." He ends the call and quickly starts up a search for his brother.

~

Sherlock looks over the corpse with calculating eyes. He hums as he walks around the table that the body sits on. "This is a good one."

Lestrade crosses his arms. "So you don't know who did it?"

"Not in the slightest, but I assume this won't be his only kill."

John gawks at him. "You think this is the work of a serial killer?"

Sherlock nods. "It's his first kill but he took too many precautions for it to be his only one. He always wanted it to be found. This is a game to him, and I look forward to playing." He smiles darkly.

John watches his friend with a slight frown. Sherlock went missing for two whole days before showing up unexpectedly at the flat. Even Mycroft couldn't find him, that is really what is worrying John. Sherlock never told him what he did in that time or where he went, but his attitude seemed different. It is almost like he is reverting back to his emotionless snarky self, but even worse so.

John has mentioned his worries to Mycroft and he is just as worried. Sherlock has ignored his brother's calls and texts, which is not entirely unusual, but Mycroft feels that this is different than their normal sibling squabble.

Sherlock isn't shocked when he finds his brother waiting in their flat.

"Doctor Watson, would you please give me a moment to speak to my brother alone?" Mycroft asks quite nicely.

John nods,"Uh, yeah. I will go down and visit Mrs.Hudson."

Once he has left Mycroft narrows his eyes at his brother. "What did you do?"

Sherlock smiles mockingly and sits across from his brother. "Whatever do you mean, brother mine?"

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock!" Mycroft hisses. "Tell me what happened."

Sherlock holds his gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Fine." He looks at his brother with cold, unfeeling eyes. "I was sick of pretending. So I stopped."

Mycroft's eyes widen slightly. His pulse picking up. "W-what?"

Sherlock smiles slightly. "You always directed my life. Told me how to act, how to be normal." He shrugs. "I got bored. I was tired of putting on an act."

"W-what did you do?" Mycroft asks again. Fear flooding his veins.

"Nothing, according to the police." He then scoffs. "Not that they would ever find out. I've even resorted to helping them. It's no fun if they never make a dent in the case."

"You have to stop this!" Mycroft hisses. "I don't want to lock you up-"

"Could you even? You have no evidence, and I have not confessed." Sherlock cocks his head to the side with a smile.

Mycroft gulps and looks at his brother pleadingly. "Let me help you. Walk away now and I will make sure-"

"Not this time, Mycroft. I'm done having you control my life. I don't need you, nor do I want you," Sherlock tells him coldly. "I suggest you leave now."

Mycroft stares at his brother, barely recognizing him. He gulps and slowly stands. "This isn't the end, Sherlock. I won't give up on you." He grabs his trusty umbrella and leaves.

Sherlock closes his eyes and leans his head back. 'This is more fun than I have had in ages.' He thinks back to the screams the girl made. 'I may feel nothing, but their emotions bring something out of me. Accomplishment? No. Satisfaction? Maybe.' He smiles. 'The routine of it all is thrilling. Watching Lestrade scratch his head in confusing is one of my favorite parts.' He steeples his hands under his chin. 'Moriarty was fun, but I dislike being framed for something I did not do. He tried to turn my colleagues on me by making them believe I kidnapped those children, that I made up Moriarty and killed those people. No, I would never be so foolish, but in a way I am glad for his games. He has made those like Donavon more so suspicious of me, that will be fun. Maybe she will figure it out.'

**Author's Note:**

> My first one shot. I got the main idea from watching Dexter (great show by the way). I thought it would be interesting if Sherlock became what people like Donovan always feared he would. If all this time he was putting on an act, Mycroft helping him fit into society and keep him from hurting himself and others.
> 
> Hope you liked it :) Comment if you would like more one shots.


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